The Longer You Fall
by Schizzar
Summary: Sequel to Routinely Rejecting Happiness. Clint has enemies, it comes with being a spy. But of course his enemies have to be supposedly dead guys, and they have to show up when everyone else is off fighting an Asgardian alien. Clint Barton/Peter Parker
1. Chapter 1

**So I should've finished the next chapter of that Steve/Tony fic but I decided to write the sequel to Routinely Rejecting Happiness instead. I will write the last chapter of the Steve/Tony next, I promise. It's like, half way done. Okay, without further ado, enjoy the story, I don't own Marvel stuff, and reviews are loved. **_  
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_He was so good to me, so perfect. No one knew me like he did. And I knew him better than anyone else. We were perfect. Perfect. And he's gone. I am alone._

_-.-_

"Hostage situation gone wrong. That's what they're calling it? When do hostage situations go right?" Peter picked up another of the papers, reading it over. "What's he calling himself?"

"We don't know," Clint said. The picture was blurry as the man escaped out the back door of the restaurant, charging through a line of policemen like they hadn't all been shooting at him. It was disturbing to look at. He was dressed in all black, head to toe, even the dark mask he wore. No mouth or nose hole, just eyeholes.

"So some guy just takes a crap ton of hostages, kills them, runs out into the sewers?" Peter shook his head, leaning back. "What the hell."

"We should get Tony on this," Natasha said from the other side of Clint. "Fury thinks we can track the guy and take him down. I'm not so sure."

Clint and Peter exchanged a glance of disbelief and then looked back at Natasha. She stared both of them down.

"I'm just being honest. The guy withstood bullets," she said, pointing at another picture. The man's clothing was torn by the bullets, but there wasn't a single wound that they could see. "I mean, Steve can take a bullet, but it usually leaves a mark. This guy doesn't have a scratch on him."

"So why would Fury just send us?" Peter asked.

"Because we're the only ones left," Clint said, leaning back on the couch and propping his feet up. "Everyone else is off in California fighting that big-ass alien and it's minions."

Apparently Loki had let loose one of Asgard's most dangerous creatures that had the ability to spawn smaller versions of it self left and right. Fury was going to send them all in, but then this guy had appeared and well...here they were.

"I can go search the sewers," Peter said. "I've done it before. Used my webs to track movements. I can start by going down whichever manhole he went through."

"Way too dangerous," Clint said.

Nat elbowed him in the side. "Peter will know when the guy moves, and he's got spidey senses. He'll be fine, Clint, really. Fury put me at the head of this mission and I say it's a great place to start."

"I'm going with him," Clint said firmly.

"I can take care of myself you know," Peter said.

"You only got put back on active duty a week ago," Clint said, shooting him a look. "I'm coming with you and that's final."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Okay, Bird-Boy can join Spider-Man down in the sewers. Under no circumstances are you allowed to engage. I'll give you guys the location to enter, and I'll be a block away if you need me. Good?"

"Good," they both agreed.

"Suit up, Spider-Man," Clint said, getting to his feet.

"You too Bird-Boy. Oh hey, does this make you my sidekick?"

"Absolutely not."

-.-

_He is not a hawk but a crow. Only crows are drawn to the things that shine._

_-.-_

"This is weird," Clint said, perching lightly on the web Peter had spun. The sewer stunk, horribly, but Clint had been in worse conditions so it wasn't too bad. "You use this technique often or something?"

"I did, when I fought the Lizard," Peter said with a shrug. He still wore his mask, even though his identity was plastered all over the papers. It was probably for comfort more than anything, and if Clint was to guess, it was a way to feel like he had armor on even though bullets could go right through it.

Peter reached down and idly plucked one of the webs. Clint couldn't feel much but from the way Peter crouched, crawling closer, he assumed the other hero could feel everything along the line. "It gets boring after awhile, but we're in this until he makes a move."

"He might not even come back this way," Clint said, flopping back on the main part of the web.

Peter made a grunt of disapproval as the webbing rocked back and forth. "Maybe not but how else are we supposed to search for him?"

"Wait until he strikes again, then follow him," Clint said.

Peter shook his head. "He'll just kill more people when he strikes again. It's best if we try and snare him before that happens. Besides, this whole thing doesn't sit well with me." He leaned back, his movements barely causing a stir in the web as he laid down beside Clint, staring up at the underbelly of the street.

"You too, huh?" Clint mused. His fingers trailed over the nearly invisible seam of the mask and the rest of the suit. "I think he wants something, trying to send a message. Who holds hostages for two hours just to kill them all? Without even making any demands."

"Exactly. There's something we're missing," Peter said.

"And we won't know what it is until we know who we're dealing with. If it weren't for the damn mask," Clint said. "Which kind of debunks the other theory. Why wear a mask if you're trying to send a message?"

Peter groaned, sitting back up. "This is just a bunch of suck, you know that? Everyone else gets to go fight some awesome alien and we're stuck in a sewer. There is no fun in this at all."

Clint crooked an eyebrow at him. "Since when was this supposed to be fun?"

"Since Matt added that to my contract," Peter said. "I didn't know it was there until Fury pulled me aside last week and mentioned it. Apparently one of the clauses says I have to be having fun or the contract is dissolved."

Clint stared at him, trying to tell if the younger was joking. "Are you serious?"

"Quite. Fury wants me to sign a new contract that doesn't include that. Of course that means I'm going to have to compare both contracts side by side which is going to take hours," Peter said. His mask crinkled a bit to show he was smiling. "But until then, if I'm not having fun I can up and leave."

"But would you?" Clint asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, Matt obviously put that in there to give you an out if you needed it."

Peter shook his head. "Nah, I think Matt was just messing with them. Otherwise he would've mentioned that part to me."

Clint laughed, the movement shaking the web again and earning him what he assumed was a glare from the web-slinger. "Knew he couldn't be that straight laced."

Peter laughed as well, then paused, tilting his head. Clint watched as he crawled to the right and tilted his head to the side, plucking at the web. "We have movement. Someone ran into this. They keep hitting it, can't figure out why it isn't breaking."

Clint rolled off the webbing and onto the slick cement below, drawing an arrow and nocking it as he proceeded down the direction Peter indicated. Peter crawled delicately along the webbing, jolting in surprise when it was hit again. He paused suddenly.

"Clint, stop, he just broke it," Peter said. "He's following it to us now."

"We have to see his face," Clint said. "We can't pass this up."

"Nat said not to engage," Peter argued, even as he reached into his ever-present messenger back and pulled out a camera, tossing it at Clint. "I'll rip the mask off, you get a picture."

"Then we run?"

"Then we run," Peter agreed.

Peter jumped off the webbing, plastering himself to the ceiling. By now they could hear the man sloshing through the water, and adrenaline began to run hot through Clint's veins. It was too dark to see the man, nothing but a huddled shadow moving closer. Peter crawled closer, then dropped on the man's shoulders.

The man didn't make a single noise, grabbing Peter's arm and hurling him over his shoulder. Peter shot a web out, sticking it to the mask and then yanking hard as he landed.

"Hawkeye, now!" he shouted.

Clint rose the camera up and clicked a shot, the flash lighting up the dark cavern for barely a second before they were both running, Peter shooting blobs of webbing behind them.

"Grab on," Peter grunted as the both vaulted up onto the web nest they had created earlier.

Clint obeyed without question, wrapping himself around the younger as he shot a web up and then retracted it, pulling them both up and out of the man's range as he caught up to them. Clint didn't bother looking back, instead curling his legs up to kick the manhole cover up and fly up through it, offering a hand to Peter and pulling him up. Once free, they kicked it shut.

They exchanged a quick look and braced themselves on either side of the manhole, Clint drawing his arrow again and aiming, waiting for the man to charge through. Peter was aiming a webshooter at him, all the while chattering into the comm and informing Natasha of what had happened.

The street they were on was already closed for investigative purposes so she appeared in seconds, gun already drawn.

"I told you two not to engage," she hissed.

"Yeah well I didn't want to go home without any information, alright?" Clint grit out. "Peter, use your web to fling the cover back, Nat and I are ready."

Peter nodded and did as ordered. Nat flashed a light down into the darkness, then shook her head. "Nothing, but your web is completely torn up. I thought people couldn't rip that apart."

"They can't," Peter said. "Which is why this is a bit on the frustrating side."

"You got a picture though, right?" she asked, kicking the manhole cover back on. "We can run that through some scans."

Clint nodded his agreement, pulling the camera back up; a top of the line journalist camera that of course, Peter would have. He flicked to the last image, mouth going dry.

"Nat."

She stepped closer, taking the camera from him. "Oh. This..."

"What, what is it?" Peter asked, glancing between them. He moved closer and looked at the image. "Yeah, doesn't look familiar to me. Is this some super secret spy thing or what?"

"He was supposed to be dead," Clint said. "Coulson was his handler, then he went MIA, was declared dead ten years ago. Then Coulson took on me, followed by Nat."

"And now he's back from the dead," Natasha murmured, clicking the image off. "We need to tell Fury."

"Yeah. I'm...going to go back to the tower," Clint said.

"No, you aren't, Fury needs to brief us," Natasha said firmly.

"He can wait ten minutes," Clint argued, slinging his bow over his shoulder as he took a step back. "You two go on ahead, I'll follow after you."

Peter tilted his head to the side, but Natasha just nodded. With a quick, jerking wave, he set off for the tower, his stomach feeling a bit like lead.

-.-

Peter set a plate in front of Clint, and though the archer wasn't too keen on eating, the smell of Aunt May's cooking made his stomach rumble. He gave Peter a half smile and began to eat the mashed potatoes, occasionally cutting off a slice of the chicken to dip it in the gravy.

"So want to tell me why you're so upset?" Peter asked, leaning across the island in Tony's kitchen.

Clint shifted on the barstool, sighing as he set his fork down. "It's...weird to see a man you've heard so much about come back from the dead."

"Hear about him from Coulson?" Peter asked, picking up Clint's fork and stealing a bite.

"Yeah," Clint said. "It was a rough mission. Him and two other agents. Agent Rourke and Agent Levine. Rourke is the guy we're dealing with now. Took place up by the Canadian boarder somewhere, Coulson never really said where. It was supposed to be a simple mission, get in, kill the targets, move out. But there was something there, dragged Rourke away half dead, with Levine near death and Coulson the only one able to walk."

He stopped for a moment, wiping his eyes as he remembered Coulson's expression when he told the story, wishing he had asked more questions. "Don't know what it was that took Rourke. Levine said it was a man, but they were fighting in the middle of the woods and Coulson says he saw something else, swore it was something else but he wasn't sure."

Peter frowned, shoving the fork back into Clint's hand as a silent command to eat. "You didn't tell Fury any of this."

"Fury already knows, it's on Coulson's file. He has Rourke's file. They looked for him but they couldn't find him," Clint said. "I just don't know what to think about all this."

"There's something you aren't saying," Peter said, turning to the fridge and pulling out one of the juice boxes he had in there.

Clint thought it was an interesting quirk, a grown man drinking kid-sized juice boxes, and Peter swore it was an old habit from when he was still in high school. "Maybe. I don't want to talk about it, and it isn't important."

"Everything is important," Peter said simply. "We need to figure out the guy's motivation. If you know something about him that isn't on file...that might help."

Clint breathed out a loud breath then, pushing the plate away. "He and Coulson were lovers. It wasn't on record because stuff like that never goes on record because it's technically breaking the rules."

Peter's raised his eyebrows. "Oh. Does Nat know?"

"Do I know what?" Natasha asked, stepping into the room with her arms folded across her chest.

"Oh come on, Nat, don't look at me like that. You know I can't help but tell you things when you give me that look," Clint said.

"That's the point. What don't I know, Clint?"

"Rourke and Coulson used to be lovers," Clint said, glancing away from her. "He was torn up about losing Rourke, even years later, that's the only reason I knew."

"And you didn't think this was important tell Fury why?" Natasha asked, a slim red eyebrow rising.

"How is it important at all?" Clint asked, voice raising in volume a bit. "It was Coulson's business, and it's entirely unconnected."

"It might not be," Peter said. "Too soon to tell."

"So what's our next step?" Clint asked, carrying the plate to the sink only to have it taken from his hands by Peter. He raised an eyebrow as Peter began to eat what he had left.

"Wait for him to strike and try and figure out what he wants," Nat said. "There's not much more we can do."

"We can go after him again," Clint said.

"Yeah, you honestly think he'll fall for Peter's trick again?" Natasha asked.

"Probably not, but we could just check the sewers for him," Clint said with a shrug.

"He broke Peter's webs, obviously he's not someone to take lightly," Nat said. "Our best bet is waiting for him to make a move and then take him out."

Peter turned on the sink and began to wash their dishes. "More people will die, but I have to agree with her on this one. We'll only get ourselves killed if we follow after him."

Clint rested his head on his arms, leaning on the island. "I hate waiting."

"You aren't the only one," Nat said.

-.-

_I hope you have missed me. I have not missed you, but we will be seeing a lot of each other. But not until I do to you what you have done to me._

_-.-_

Clint dropped onto the roof of the building, Peter beside him. Natasha flew the jet back to land on the roof beside them. She would be with them shortly, working from the ground up.

Rourke had once more taken a host of hostages and barricaded himself up on the top floor, saying he wouldn't shoot them all if they listened to his terms. They were still waiting to hear just what his terms were.

"I don't know what he's playing at, but it's a bit frustrating," Clint said. "Two days ago he didn't give a damn about asking for anything and now he is?"

"I just don't like anything about this situation. Nothing is adding up," Peter said, shifting over to the edge of the roof and letting down a thin line of web, securing it to the top. He did the same thing a few feet away.

Clint moved over to stand beside him, checking the tension of the web. "You sure this will hold me?"

"You'll be fine," Peter said. "I wouldn't put you on it a billion feet up in the air if I thought there was a chance you'd turn into a Hawk-Omelet by falling."

Clint snorted and swung his leg over to straddle the edge of the roof.

"Clint! He's asking for you," Natasha said, her voice breathless in his ear. "He says he'll release the hostages if you go into the room he's in."

Peter gave a low growl of anger. "No. You can't answer the demands of a terrorist. He threw me a dozen feet and actually did damage. You can't."

"Nat, what do you want me to do?" Clint asked, ignoring Peter's spluttering behind him.

"Do it. See what he wants, then get out. Peter, can you get into the ceiling?"

"Of course I can, I'm Spider-Man!"

Clint snorted, grabbed the web and eased himself down to the first window. He braced his feet on the glass, pushed off and swung back, breaking through the window and rolling through, coming up with his arrow nocked. The office room was empty, and he eased himself back up onto his feet. "Okay, I'm in."

Peter appeared beside him. "Give me a lift?"

Clint tapped his shoulders and Peter vaulted up onto them, pushing the ceiling tile up and pulling himself up. He peeked over the edge, pulling his mask up. "Play it safe, alright?"

"I will. Watch my back?"

"Always."

"Good man," Clint said.

Peter gave a small wave and put the tile back in place. Clint kicked the next door open, checking his corners before continuing onward.

"What room is he in Nat?"

"He moved to the back side of the building, huge conference building with glass doors. Should be able to see him."

Clint made a noise to indicate he heard and rounded the next corridor, keeping his arrow nocked as he continued walking towards the room. The people he was holding hostage were gathered in a corner with Rourke standing in front of them, his back to Clint.

He turned then, still with the ski-mask, devoid of any holes but those for the eyes. Clint proceeded towards the door, nudging it open with his foot.

"Good to see you, Agent Barton," Rourke said without turning around. "Perhaps you should lower the bow, hm? We wouldn't want an accident to happen, would we?"

"Let the people go, Rourke, and we can talk, alright?"

"Oh, you were able to get a good picture then?" He moved out of the way and the people reacted instantly, bolting for the door. Rourke let them go, much to Clint's surprise. He turned to face Clint, arms folded across his chest. "So you know who I am?"

"You're supposed to be dead," Clint said, bringing his bow up once more.

"Shame on you," Rourke said. "I said to keep the bow down."

Before Clint could react, the man was on the meeting table and punching up into the ceiling tile. He heard Peter scramble back and a moment later, shoot webbing down to cover the man's eyes. Rourke barely reacted, ripping the webbing away before knocking aside another tile with a large fist.

"The citizens are free, Clint. What's the situation?" Natasha asked.

Clint didn't say a word, instead firing an arrow without hesitation. It engaged, clipping into the man's fabric as the flashing timer began to blink. Another tile was knocked away and Clint bolted out of the room, shouting for Peter to run as he cleared the room, racing down the hallway. Moments later, the glass walls shattered, the heat of the explosion reaching all the way down the hall.

Panting, he eased his way back towards the room. Glass covered the floor, and Peter was crouched over the edge of the broken window leading to the outdoors. Clint joined him, looking over to see Rourke shouldering his way through several lines of policemen just like before the back of his shirt destroyed but the skin beneath it unmarked. Nat was on his heels, keeping pace easily.

"Hang on Bird-Boy," Peter said. "We're going for a swing."

Clint shouldered his bow and wrapped himself around Peter's back, taking a deep breath before Peter launched himself off the building, slinging a web to the nearest building and swinging after Natasha and Rourke.

"Nat, what are you doing?" he demanded over the rush over air in his ears. "I put an explosive arrow on the guy's back and he didn't even react."

"Getting a tracker on him," Natasha said between breaths.

"Dropping now, get ready," Peter warned.

As they swung low, Peter cut off the web and they dropped onto the cement, both of them springing away from each other and rolling across the pavement. They came up just ahead of Rourke, and both moved simultaneously, each snagging one of the man's arms and slowing his momentum just enough for Natasha to lunge, launching onto his back and driving her fist into his neck. Rourke jolted at the electricity, and Clint was thankful he and Peter had released him just before she had punched down.

But then Rourke was shoving them aside, hard enough to cause the pavement beneath them to crumble. Natasha was chattering into the comm, no doubt telling Fury they had successfully tagged the man. Peter got back to his feet and offered a hand to help Clint up. They looked down the street but Rourke was long gone.

"Enhancements. It's gotta be enhancements of some kind," Clint said.

"Yeah, and he said some pretty disturbing stuff as he leapt out the window too," Peter said, moving his mask up enough so his mouth was free. "Said he was going to do to you what you did to him."

-.-

_You must fly high before I clip your wings. I want you to feel regret as you fall. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Most of these beginning chapters are going to be a bit on the short side for my usual writing. I think after this chapter though, things are going to start getting a bit longer as the plot thickens and twists. Most of this is planned out, but I'm used to my plans going horribly wrong and churning out a different, though better, result. **_  
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_Higher and higher._

_-.-_

"You never did tell me how many people died, on the helicarrier," Clint said, firing an arrow across the field, eyes narrowing when it took the dummy's head off and pinned it to the wall.

"That's because none of it was your fault," Natasha said from somewhere behind him, her voice steady despite the paces she was putting herself through. "And you know that."

Clint jogged to the other end of the field and took his arrow out of the wall, tossing the head on the ground before dragging another dummy from the side into place. "No one would've been able to make the shot I did to blow up the engine. How is it not my fault?"

"We were dealing with Loki," Natasha said, kicking off the chest of one dummy and using the leverage to grab the arm of another and throw it over her shoulder. She flicked a few strands of her out of her face. "He would've found a way to have that engine get blown up either way."

Clint didn't respond to that, instead going back to shooting as he tried to analyze the information they had gathered over the last few days. Rourke said he was going to get revenge on him for something, probably involving Coulson. He hadn't really known Rourke before, meeting him only once before he had supposedly died. He had been a powerful agent, skilled in various sects of karate, and impeccable aim with a gun. Happy and good natured.

"Nat, what do we know about the area he disappeared?" Clint asked.

"Not much, at least nothing on file," Natasha said.

"I have a few ideas," a new voice said.

Clint reacted instantly, aiming his arrow at where the voice was coming from, only to freeze as he looked at Deadpool, sitting on one of the swinging overhead lights. The masked merc gave a tiny wave and jumped down.

"How did you get in here? This is a SHIELD training facility," Natasha said, drawing her gun and pointing it at him.

"Aw, hunny, I'm Deadpool. You really think something like that's going to keep me out?"

"Wade, what do you want?" Clint asked, lowering his weapon. "It's okay Nat. He's mostly sane, and I don't think he's here to kill us."

Deadpool snickered. "You'd be dead already if I was."

"That a challenge?" Natasha asked, stepping closer.

"Oh I'd love to go a few rounds with you baby, but I'm afraid my schedules a bit tight right now. Gimme your number and I'll get back to you," Deadpool said, turning away from Clint.

"Wade, stop harassing my co-workers. What do you want?"

"Oh right," Deadpool said, turning back to face him. "This Rourke guy, I used to work with him. Recognized him when I passed by him in the sewers. We had a chat."

"Wait, you talked to the guy?" Clint asked.

"What were you doing in the sewers?" Natasha asked, shoving her gun away and folding her arms over her chest.

"I was chasing a mark, and after I got him I ran into Rourke on my way back. He recognized me first, then took off the mask," Wade said. "We knew each other."

"Why didn't you kill him?" Natasha asked.

"Because I don't like going after things for free, and I didn't feel like getting my ass handed to me," Wade said with a shrug. He tilted his head to the side, glancing up at the ceiling. "Oh shut up, I can admit when I have faults and you know it. Just because you're conceited doesn't mean I have to be! Okay so I'm a little conceited, I'll give you that."

Natasha crooked an eyebrow at Clint, but the archer just shook his head.

"It's a thing," Clint said, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't...don't worry about it."

"I know when I can't take an enemy down," Wade said, looking between them. "I mean, I could've taken him out, but it wouldn't have been worth it. Take too long."

"Where did you meet him before?" Clint asked. He was aware of Wade's lack of loyalty, and while once upon a time Natasha could've identified with that, he knew better. She was probably the most loyal out of all of them.

"Weapon X. Sound familiar?" Wade looked between them. "No of course not. Government lackeys don't get to know all the secrets. It was developed by Department K, in Canada. Me and Rourke were part of the experiments. Makes us special."

"Special how?" Natasha asked. "The super soldier serum or something else?"

"Can you shut your girlfriend up? I don't have to tell you guys anything," Wade said, his voice growing impatient. "And yes, she is hot, but we don't have time for that, besides she obviously doesn't go for the guys that talk to themselves." He scratched his head, glancing away from them both. "Yeah, yeah, much more of this and it ain't even worth saying anything to them, huh?"

"Nat, just be quiet, please," Clint said. He had worked with Deadpool before. He was aware that he could go from helpful to nuisance to deadly in the span of a few minutes. It wouldn't help them if he got too bored to talk to them and decided the voices in his own head were more interesting. "Keep going."

"Well, the Weapon X program gave us a healing factor, and other fun things. We became a covert group; Me, Wolverine, Sluggo, Rourke, Kane and Slayback." Wade scratched his chin. "Or at least that's what I remember. Anyways, me and Rourke got kicked off when we got a little loopy and attacked our teammates. We ended up at Hospice for further experimentation."

Wade stopped then, and Clint was almost sure he was frowning beneath the mask.

"Hospice..." Clint prompted.

"Gross place, lots of stupid scientists, experimentation. Really fucked Rourke up you know? He ended up with near impenetrable skin and super strength. And a case of the crazies."

"Because you're a glowing picture of a sanity," Natasha muttered.

Clint winced as Wade turned to face her, hands twitching at his sides. "Yeah, I am, thank you for the kind words baby."

"I'm not anyone's baby," Natasha said, hand moving to her gun as Wade advanced on her.

"Wade! Focus," Clint ordered, glaring at Natasha and urging her to stand down.

She glared at them both but returned her arms to be folded across her chest. Wade turned back to Clint as if he had never been distracted, launching back into his story.

"Yes, we escaped from Hospice later. Went our separate ways. I just thought you should know he's not to be taken lightly. I've seen him take a grenade to the face and walk away from it," Deadpool said. "Oh and he talked a lot about a guy named Coulson. Said he was going to go back to him once he got out of Hospice."

"Well that explains a few things," Clint said. "That it?"

"Yeah, that's it. I just wanted to let my favorite Birdy know," Wade said, voice sounding significantly happier. "Can't have you getting killed before we work together some more."

Clint nodded in agreement. "I'm sure you can find your way out?"

"I got in, didn't I?" Wade asked then turned for the wall, running towards it and jumping from it to the swinging light fixtures over head. "Don't get yourself killed Barton. I think he's coming for you."

Before either of them could say anything, he scrambled up the light and into the darkness of the high ceiling. Clint shouldered his bow, not much in the mood for training any longer.

"You worked with him?" Natasha asked in disbelief.

"We ran into each other on a mission. He saved my life," Clint said. "Sometimes he shows up on my missions. I think he's taken a liking to me for some reason."

"Not someone I'd want following me around," Natasha said.

"He's harmless most the time," Clint said with a shrug. "And certainly gives us insight to some of Rourke's motivation."

"Oh?" Natasha asked.

"He blames me for Coulson's death. He said he was going to do to me what I did to him. I took away his lover, he'll take away mine," Clint said.

"You didn't kill Coulson," Natasha said.

"Didn't I though?" Clint asked, heading for the exit. "Coulson would be alive if I hadn't attacked the helicarrier. Everyone knows that Natasha, even you do."

"Clint-"

Clint let the door shut behind him. He'd have to get back to the tower and talk with Peter. This certainly wasn't heading in a direction he was comfortable with.

-.-

_A nest is fragile. A strong wind and it all comes tumbling down._

_-.-_

Peter fired a quick test shot across the lab, testing the give of the web before cutting it off with the webshooter and slipping the shooter into the wrist cuff. Refilling the things took work, but it was a welcome distraction from everything they had gone through the last two days.

"Mr. Parker, sir, Agent Barton is requesting access to the lab."

"Thanks JARVIS. Uh, let him in, but don't tell Tony?"

"Mr. Stark will not be informed of Agent Barton's presence, but I would like to remind you that this is your lab now and Mr. Stark's ban list is not applied to it," Jarvis said, a moment before the doors slid open.

Peter spun in his chair to see Clint striding towards him, setting his bow down on the table and throwing his gym bag on the floor. He paused a few feet from Peter, lips struggling to crook up into a smile only to fail.

"Hey, hey, what is it?" Peter asked, getting to his feet and starting towards him. "Clint?"

"I..." Clint shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down. "He's going to come after you, Peter. It's...he wants payback you know?"

"Clint, you're not making much sense to be honest," Peter said, taking another step closer. "I mean, did you learn something else about him while you were at SHIELD?"

"Something like that," Clint said, his laugh bitter as he shook his head. "He...he probably blames me for Coulson's death. So he's going to take you away from me."

Peter frowned. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere Clint. Really. Right here." He grabbed one of Clint's hands, pressing it to his chest. "See, in the flesh?" He gave a nervous grin when Clint didn't look up at him. "Clint..." He ducked his head so he could press his forehead to Clint's, urging him to look up until their lips were nearly pressed together. "What's wrong?"

Clint closed his eyes, sighing against him. "He's right. I don't deserve you, or anyone."

"So what, you wanna hand me over to the crazy psychopath?" Peter asked, brushing his knuckles against Clint's jaw. "Come on, don't say stuff like that. I've messed up a lot of things too. Doesn't mean I don't deserve you." He smiled, brushing their noses together. "I'm still learning that it's okay to...be in love with you."

It was risky for him to use the word love. Neither of them used it often. They never really committed to each other either, and as far as he knew, Natasha still sometimes warmed his bed. He wasn't sure, he had never asked, but he wouldn't have been surprised.

Clint pulled away from him, running a hand through his hair. "Is it love? Really? Because you shouldn't. I'm liable to do something stupid."

"Really? Because you haven't done anything dumb in the time I've known you." Peter stepped closer, pulling Clint back towards him.

"Coulson's dead because of me," Clint said quietly, leaning into him.

Peter swallowed thickly, stroking Clint's back as the man all but collapsed against him. "You never told me how he died. You never told me much about him at all, other than you were...together."

"When the Avengers first got together," Clint said. "I wasn't with them. Loki...I was with Loki. I helped take out one of the engines of the helicarrier and Loki was able to escape. He killed Coulson." He buried his face against Peter's shoulder. "It was my fault."

"You worked with Loki?" Peter asked, not stopping the steady movement of his hands.

"I...yeah. Couldn't help it. He got inside my mind but I didn't...couldn't...resist," Clint said.

Peter wasn't sure what to say, and he hated it. Clint had known everything to say to him, but all he could do was hold the man and hope he didn't crumble into pieces before him. What did he say to a man who had been under mind control and forced to partake in the event that killed his lover? He wasn't sure there was anything to say.

"If you knew Coulson was going to die...would you have cared?" he asked softly. "Under whatever spell Loki put you under. Would you have cared?"

Clint's mouth opened against his shoulder, a strangled noise coming out before finally, "I don't know."

-.-

_We start slow. Nothing but a feather._

_-.-_

Natasha took a deep breath as she continued to walk towards the tower. She had spent too long at the training facilities, working over in her mind everything Wade had told them. She had wanted to punch the crazy assassin for what he had said, opening up all Clint's insecurities the way he had.

She knew he wasn't to blame for Coulson's death, but no matter what she said, Clint never removed the guilt from his shoulders. She didn't know what it was like to have Loki in her head the way Clint did, and while she was used to being unmade, if one could get used to such a thing, she had a feeling it was quite different.

Whirling, she brought her leg up in a roundhouse kick as the man behind her lunged forward. She froze, precariously balanced as Rourke easily caught her leg, grinning down at her without his mask. His face was a mess of scars, but still ultimately recognizable. In the low lamplight, his grin was almost inhuman, grey eyes sliding over to look at the leg he had caught.

Breath catching, she tried to yank free, then pushed up with her other leg, using the momentum to catch him under his chin. It was like hitting a wall, and he didn't stumble at all, his grip tightening on her caught leg as she stumbled back onto her free leg.

"You fight well, but you are still just human," Rourke said.

Natasha didn't say a word, instead pushing off once more and curling into her captive leg, kicking the man once in his chest as she sunk her nails into the flesh of his hand. The skin gave a bit but she was unable to keep her grip, sliding back until she was flipped into a handstand.

Rourke didn't bother to grab her other leg, letting it drop to the ground so she was in some distorted back bend. "So easy to cripple like this. One limb and you're all but useless."

Natasha drew her gun from her belt, firing once at his head only to have it ricochet into the nearby lamp post. Gritting her teeth, she rolled back to her feet, leaping up once more and locking her leg around his waist, her fingers going for his eyes. His smile vanished, and then the back of his hand cracked across her cheek, the grip on her leg loosening so she fell to the pavement, vision spinning.

"Stay down," he said, kicking her in the side with no real force. "I wonder what Barton will think when he realizes you're gone." His hand stroked the side of her face and she whipped her head to try and bite his fingers, the motion only making her vision spin harder.

How hard had he hit her?

"Barton's an agent, we're used to losing each other," she breathed out carefully, not wincing when his hand fisted in her hair boot pressing into her back as he pulled her back.

"Oh he won't lose you just yet. I'll make it hurt."

"You won't-"

Her eyes widened when a needle slid into the flesh of her neck, breath catching. It worked fast and before her head hit the concrete again, she was under.

-.-

_They always told me it was the first cut that hurt the most. They lied._

_-.-_

Clint rolled out of bed, rubbing his face tiredly before looking over at Peter. The younger was sprawled out over every surface of the bed, head turned to the side and deep within the realm of sleep. Biting his lip, he ran a finger over Peter's brow before heading into the bathroom, grabbing his phone off the night side table as he went.

After washing his face, he checked the phone's messages. Usually he woke when his phone went off, but the day before had left him up half the night thinking and when he finally dropped off, he wasn't sure a foghorn could've woken him up. The first message was from some agent who was requesting help with organizing a mission, the second from Natasha.

He clicked it open and brushed his teeth while he waited for the picture to load. Peter shuffled sleepily into the room beside him, kissing his cheek before peeking curiously at his phone.

"Clint?"

"Hm?" Clint spit the toothpaste out and winced, holding his hand out for Peter to put the phone in. He brought it to his eyes, lowering the toothbrush to the counter top.

It was Natasha, arms strung up by chains and hung over her head, the wall behind her plain cement brick. Her hair was pulled back haphazardly so they could see her face. Know it was her. Her eyes were closed though, and she was limp in her confines. There was no text beneath it, and when he hit call, the line had been disconnected.

"JARVIS? Can you track Nat's phone?" Clint asked quietly.

"No, I cannot sir. The device must have been destroyed."

"Clint?" Peter's arm wrapped around his shoulder as he dropped the phone on the counter, heart racing.

Before Peter could say anything else, the phone buzzed once more. Clint reached out and opened the message, this time from an unknown number.

_Let's see how long it takes before you crack. _

"JARVIS, track this number and give us the coordinates as soon as you have them," Peter ordered, reaching over and turning the shower on.

"I should have it within 5 minutes, Mr. Parker."

"Peter," Clint began.

"Hush, quick shower, we have work to do," Peter said firmly, grabbing Clint's shoulders and squeezing. "She's our teammate. Damn whatever SHIELD says, we're going after her, got it?"

"I was hoping you were going to say something like that," Clint said quietly.

"Should I not inform SHIELD of these events or my findings?" Jarvis asked.

"Store the information, be ready to send it if we tell you to," Peter said. "I'll use the code Stark gave me."

"Very good, sir."

"Code?" Clint asked, calmer now that it seemed like they were moving in a certain direction. He had never been much of a leader, that was what Coulson and Natasha were for. And apparently, Peter as well.

"Long story, tell you while we're swinging," Peter said, grabbing his arm and pulling him over, yanking his shirt off and pushing his pants down. "Shower now. Talk later."

"Yes sir," Clint said, managing a teasing tone despite what he was feeling inside.

Peter pulled him out from under the spray, kissing him firmly on the lips. "It's going to be alright, Clint, I promise." He cupped Clint's face, kissed his forehead and pulled back, offering the smile he always did before he went and kicked ass.

"I trust you."

"I won't let you down."


	3. Chapter 3

**And now the chapters start getting a bit longer. I'm thinking maybe three more chapters, at the most. Hope you're all enjoying this! Reviews are loved. **_  
_

_Hope. _

Peter was still surprised at how easy it was to travel with Clint wrapped around his back. The man had enough strength that he could cling easily to Peter's back, and after some practice, he managed to adjust how he held when Peter swung so that he was never a nuisance.

Landings were still rough.

Clint leapt from his back as he cut the webbing, rolling across the pavement of the alley, bow out when he got back to his feet. He scoped the area as Peter checked the coordinates Jarvis had given them.

"Found what we should be looking for I think," Clint said from behind him.

Peter turned to see Clint crouching over an envelope propped up against the alley wall. He walked over and picked it up, ripping it open without hesitation. Clint was tense behind him, practically thrumming with pent up energy and worry.

"He knew we were going to come here," Clint said. "He knew we were going to track where the phone signal was from. So where's the phone?"

"We'll look in a second, alright?" Peter said, reaching out to pat his knee as he unfolded what was inside.

It was a picture, again of Natasha, but her left arm was out of its chains, hanging limp and at an all too unnatural angle by her side. Clint snatched the picture up, and Peter used his webbing to rip it back before the archer could start tearing it to pieces.

"We can use it as a clue," Peter said quietly, heart clenching when Clint buried his face in his hands, fingers tightening in his hair. "Clint, it's going to be alright."

"You don't fucking know that," Clint let out, his voice a low whine. "It's my fault that-"

"Not another word," Peter said. "You can't keep-"

He was interrupted by the shrill ringtone of a phone, somewhere off to their right. Clint moved instantly, knocking aside a few trashcans and picking up what they had hidden. A small, disposable flip phone.

It continued to ring in his hands and he stared down at it. Peter approached cautiously, not wanting to accidentally spark the archer's anger. Before he could say anything, Clint flipped it open, eyes scanning the sky and windows above them.

"Listen you piece of-"

Peter yanked the phone out of his hands before he could get any further, pressing it to his ear just in time to hear the all too familiar chuckle of Rourke. "You've made us very angry Rourke, and I don't think that's exactly in your best interest."

"Ah but it is. Put Agent Barton back on, would you?"

Peter turned the phone on speaker and handed it back to Clint, urging the archer to stay calm with a pointed stare. Clint frowned, glancing down at the phone with a sigh.

"I'm sick of this game, Rourke, just let her go," Clint said.

"Have you really broken so quickly? I expected more from you Barton."

"You want to hurt me, right? For what I did to Coulson? So why not just take me? Hm?"

Peter wanted to smack Clint for saying something so stupid, but he clenched his fists tight instead. He'd yell at him later.

"There is more to pain than merely the physical. How about I make you a deal, Barton? Give me this Peter Parker and you can have your little toy back. Humans aren't that much fun to play with."

Clint closed his eyes, jaw tightening as his hand clenched around the phone. "Where?"

"I'll send the coordinates to your phone. You might have to get a bit wet but it's a small sacrifice, hm? And if you decide to bring in back up, she dies," Rourke said. "Ta-ta for now my darling."

As soon as the line disconnected, Clint hurled the phone at the wall, the plastic cracking and breaking to pieces on contact. Peter moved quickly then, wrapping his arms tight around the archer as he began to curl up on himself.

"Calm down, it's okay," Peter said, easing them both back against the wall so that they could both sit. "Also, please tell me you have a plan, because correct me if I'm wrong, but you're about to trade me over for Nat."

"Shut up," Clint hissed, elbowing him. "Obviously I'm not going to do that. From what he said, he's probably in the sewers. We can go down there, grab Natasha, and get out."

"Did you miss the part where this guy has super strength and impenetrable skin?" Peter asked, raising his eyebrows even though Clint couldn't see them under the mask. "Because I'm pretty sure you were the one who told me all of that."

"So what else do we do?" Clint asked. "Let her die?"

Peter sighed. "I don't know. We could call in SHIELD?"

"He'd kill her. Come on Peter, you're a vigilante, you should know how to do this stuff without back up," Clint said.

"Yeah, and a lot of people died because of my mess ups, let's not forget that okay?" Peter shot back, then bit his lip. They were both too stressed out to deal with this, but they didn't have much of a choice. "Okay, okay. We've both fought big baddies before. Did Wade give you any tips on how to take him down?"

"Outside just pummeling him until he goes down, not really," Clint said with a shake of his head.

"Let's get back to the tower, alright?" Peter said, getting to his feet and offering a hand to help Clint up. "We can call Tony, see if he or Steve have any bright ideas."

Clint opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by the short beep of his phone receiving a message. He opened the message and Peter looked down to read it.

_You will receive instructions at exactly 1700 hours. You will have 45 minutes to reach the destination. If you fail to do so, she will be moved and you will not be given a second chance. _

"We should tell Fury," Peter said.

"He said not send back up," Clint said, looking up at him. "Come on Peter, you know Fury by now. That man's like a snake. He'll say he's not going to send back up and then he will."

"What if Coulson said to send in back up?" Peter asked, the words popping out of his mouth before he had a chance to really stop them. He didn't get it, not really, what Clint felt for his old handler. What made the archer so adamant about not trusting Fury, but so willing to follow Coulson blindly.

"You don't know a thing about me and Coulson," Clint said, glaring as he got to his feet.

"Answer the question, Clint," Peter said. "You're a SHIELD agent. Why don't you trust Fury? Everyone else does."

"Never trusted Fury. Trusted my handler," Clint said, stepping away from him. "Let's just go back to the tower, okay Peter? Just...make up a plan, a solid plan before we have to do this."

"We need to talk about this," Peter said, frowning beneath his mask.

"No, we don't. We need to save Nat and rip Rourke's head off," Clint said, walking past him. "I'll just walk back to the tower, okay?"

"Okay, wait, wait, wait," Peter said as he lunged forward and grabbed Clint's arm, yanking him back. "I get that you don't want to talk to me right now, so we don't have to talk, but I don't think we should be on our own right now."

Clint didn't look at him, instead moving behind him wordlessly and wrapping his arms around Peter's neck. Peter sighed, pushing the mask up a bit and turning his head, catching Clint's lips for a moment before turning back and carrying them both to the tower.

-.-

_It is the world's greatest motivator. _

They had six more hours before they would get the text from Rourke, giving them a lot of time to plan if they wanted to. Except Clint had gone off to the other room and locked the door without a word, leaving Peter to be the mature one and actually think of a plan.

He headed down to the lab Tony had designated for him to use, hanging upside down from a web as he flipped through his phone, trying to think of the best person to call for help. Everyone knew he didn't trust Fury farther than he could throw them, but they were in over their head with this one.

"JARVIS, what's Tony doing right now?" Peter asked, thumbing down toward Tony's number, the one for his suit. Not many people were allowed to have it, but he and Tony had become close in the last few weeks when he had first moved in.

"Mr. Stark is currently carrying Mr. Banner back to their hotel. If you would like to call him, now would be the time to do so Mr. Parker," Jarvis said.

Peter clicked on the contact and held it up to his ear. Tony answered two rings in.

"Please don't tell me things have gone horribly wrong while I've been out here getting covered in alien goo," Tony said.

"Uh, Nat's been captured by a terrorist with bullet proof skin and super strength and Clint refuses to call in back up from SHIELD," Peter said in a rush. "And I don't know if I can take him out."

"Jesus, Parker, do you even try to stay out of trouble?" Tony sighed dramatically, most likely to cover up his own anxiety. Peter knew they worked as a unit, as a team, and if one of them was captured, it didn't bode well for the rest of them.

"Tony, what do I do?" Peter asked, voice quiet. "Clint's having a mental break down and he doesn't want SHIELD involved. The guy's giving us an address at 5 o'clock, says we have forty five minutes after that before he kills her."

"And of course you know if he sees back up he'll just get rid of her anyways," Tony said. "Man he has no originality. How comfortable are you with going behind Clint's back?"

"At this point, if I can do anything to keep us all alive, I'm okay with it," Peter said.

"Okay here's what we're going to do," Tony said. "First, get the address. I'm going to call Fury, or rather have Steve call Fury, and explain the situation. Get your comm device and hook it up before you leave so Fury can tell when to move in. As much as the man annoys me, I know he won't do anything to get an agent as good as Natasha killed. He'll play it safe, and his men won't so much as twitch until you've secured her."

"Won't he be pissed when you tell him that Clint is going behind his back?" Peter said. "I don't want to endanger him."

"I'll lie about it a bit," Tony said, not sounding the least bit concerned. "Won't tell him that Clint's not on board with it. What he doesn't know, won't kill him."

"Okay," Peter said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tony, what does Clint have against SHIELD if he's an agent?"

"He didn't get in it for SHIELD," Tony said. "He wouldn't have joined if Coulson hadn't brought him in. Of course I only know that second hand. He told Bruce, and Bruce told me."

"Is this going to be a problem?" Peter asked.

"Probably not. Say he's got bullet proof skin?"

"He lived through one of Clint's grenade arrows. Actually didn't leave a mark on him," Peter said, frowning.

"JARVIS, open the special case, the one at the back of Peter's lab," Tony ordered.

"Right away, sir."

Peter jerked, hearing Jarvis' voice through the phone and above him, flipping down from the web and turning around. There was a noise of an automatic door sliding back, and Peter followed where the noise was coming from, moving towards the back. A portion of the wall had cut away, revealing two wristbands with web-slingers attached, a sleek bow of deep purple, and a matching quiver, full of arrows.

"Tony, what is this?"

"Gifts that I made for you guys awhile ago. Seems like you might need them," Tony said. "The web shooters have acid laced webbing. Should give the guy some serious acid burns but won't kill him. The arrows can be activated to pass electrical currents at a variety of levels. Instruction manual is in the quiver. I gotta go, Bruce is waking up. We should be back in a day or two."

"...Thanks Tony. This should help a lot," Peter said. "You're a genius. How much webbing is in those?'

"Enough. Hanging up now, good luck."

The connection was cut, leaving Peter to stand alone before all their new shiny toys. "JARVIS?"

"Mr. Barton is requesting entry to the lab, shall I let him in?"

"Yeah, please," Peter said. "I'm back here, Clint."

Clint's footsteps were quick and Peter turned to face him, grinning when Clint paused, head tilting to the side as he stared at the display behind him. "I was going to ask you a question, but I have a better one now. What is that?"

"Stark left us some toys," Peter said, smile widening.

"What do they do?" Clint asked, moving past him to pull out the quiver.

"Electrical currents, probably controlled by this," Peter said. He picked up a small remote hanging beside the bow. "And the web-slingers have webbing capable of giving acid burns. Should be able to take the guy down now."

"You told Tony about this?" Clint asked, eyes narrowing.

"I wanted advice on how to take him out," Peter said as he held his hands up to pacify the archer. "Said he had made these awhile back and was going to show us later."

Clint shrugged. "Works for me."

He moved to grab the bow as well, but Peter slid between him and it, gently prying the quiver out of the archer's hand as well. "We need to talk first. Please."

"Fine," Clint said, turning away from him. "I came down here to apologize anyways. I said some rude things."

"You know I don't care about that," Peter said, setting the quiver aside and stepping up behind the archer, resting his chin on the other's shoulder. "I care about what's going on in here." He tapped over the man's heart with one finger, then kissed his jaw. "Tell me what's going on. There's gotta be something making you all stressed out."

"Natasha's being tortured, isn't that enough?"

Peter sighed, brushing by him and dragging his feet dramatically. "This has been bugging you a lot longer than that. Remember our first mission together?" He turned to look at Clint, arms folding over his chest. "You said Coulson's name, then hyperventilated all the way back to headquarters. Obviously he was your lover, I already got that much from all this, but...I want the whole story."

Clint shook his head, a bitter, harsh laugh escaping out his lips. "The whole story huh?" He shoved his hands in his pockets and began to pace. "Coulson picked me up out of prison, before my trial. I had taken the fall for a murder, and he had been watching me in the first place because of my skillset. He got me out of jail, put me in SHIELD as an agent."

"Seems like a crappy agent, freeing a supposed criminal like that," Peter said.

Clint rolled his eyes at him but kept pacing. "Coulson doesn't make stupid moves like that. He actually had spies on me at the time so he already knew I hadn't done it. He gave me a new life, you know? Gave me a chance to make things right. I didn't give a damn about SHIELD, I just wanted to make him happy, pay him back. We got close, started opening up to each other. I had never gotten close to anyone before." He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I hear he was pretty straight laced. How'd you get him to open up to you?"

"When you spend that long depending on each other...you start talking I guess," Clint said with a shrug. He resumed pacing. "Then I kissed him and he kissed me back and we became bed-mates as well as co-workers. Then somewhere along the line we fell in love, but it never messed with our work. We kept them separate, made things easier, simpler, cleaner."

"And then Loki?" Peter asked, taking a step closer.

"Yeah. He got the Tesseract, and then got control of me and Dr. Selvig," Clint said, turning his back to Peter. "It...you know how I...I said that I'm not sure I would've done it any differently if I knew Coulson was going to die?"

Peter nodded, then made a soft noise for him to continue when he remembered Clint wasn't looking at him. He stopped behind the archer, resting his chin on the man's shoulder once more.

"It's because Loki didn't...he didn't _make_ us do anything," Clint said. "He just showed us what we most desired, showed us how to achieve it. Showed us the truth of the world, focused our goal into one simple thing."

"What was it?" Peter asked quietly. "What was your deepest desire?"

"To become more than human," Clint whispered, hanging his head. "SHIELD would drop me the moment my vision started going bad. I'd be useless without my eyes. So what I wanted more than anything was to...never lose my vision."

"Not a bad wish," Peter murmured.

"I'd be just any other agent without it, you know?" Clint shook his head. "But I was...disgusted, when I came out of it. Realized that a more selfish desire had beat out my desire to protect Coulson. If I had focused on protecting him he...he never would've died. So when everyone says it wasn't my fault...they don't understand. It _was _my fault. I didn't care enough about him to keep him alive."

Peter bit his lip, pulling Clint flush against him, wanting to hug him so tight his pain would just...melt away. "You're wrong Clint. He didn't die because your weakness."

"Then _what? _What killed him?" Clint jerked away, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"Loki, not you," Peter said firmly. "He died by Loki's hand, right? You didn't shoot him in the chest."

"I might as well have," Clint said, still avoiding his gaze.

"Clint...you can't blame yourself for every death that happens around you. You know what that does to a person. You saw what it did to me," Peter said. He stepped closer, then placed his hands on the other's shoulders. "I'm not going to let you fall to pieces like I did. Whatever Rourke tries to convince you of? He's wrong. Completely wrong. Got it?"

"Crystal," Clint said, but Peter could tell from the tone of voice that he was just saying it to make the other back off.

"You should catch some sleep before all this starts," Peter said. "I'll even join you. We'll have JARVIS wake us up by three, we'll have two hours to prepare."

Clint sighed, heading for the exit of the lab. "I just want to punch things honestly."

"I know," Peter said, easily keeping pace with him. "But sleep is more helpful." He nudged Clint lightly. "We'll get her back, you'll see."

"I hope you're right," Clint said. "If I lost her...if I lost another person because of my mistakes, my short-comings...I don't know what I'd do."

Peter wrapped an arm around Clint's waist, pressing a hard kiss against his temple. "You're an amazing archer, and an amazing friend Clint. Don't ever forget that, okay?"

Clint didn't answer.

-.-

_And such a powerful motivator? It leaves room for rash actions._

Wade dropped down behind Rourke, clapping both his hands on the man's shoulders and ducking when the other whirled around to punch him. He held up his hands innocently.

"Hey, hey, I'm not doing any attacking here sir. I'm just dropping by to say hello," Wade said, eyes sliding to look past Rourke to where Natasha hung against the wall. .

_She's pretty. _

_ **We should free her. Maybe she'd be so grateful she'd-**_

"Wade Wilson," Rourke said, pulling his modified ski mask off and dropping it on the ground behind him. "I am surprised to see you in a place like this. Still a mercenary?"

"Yup. After I ran into you the other day I thought, hey, what's a drink between two friends, even if it is in a dank, dark sewer," Wade said with a shrug.

He tried not to look at Natasha as her head rolled back and she fixed him with a look. She was just a human, so he was baffled at the strength in her gaze despite her broken arm and if he was seeing correctly, a few fingers too.

"You're not here to kill me?" Rourke asked, sounding genuinely interested as he ran a hand through his shaggy brown locks. He moved towards a table, unfurling the whip lying there. "I find that hard to believe. We did not part on good terms."

"Yeah, but I don't hold grudges," Wade said, sidling closer to Natasha. "Hey hunny. Miss me?"

Rourke turned, whip hissing through the air but Wade reached out and snatched it out of the air, curling the leather around his fist. "So you know this woman?"

"She's Birdy's friend," Wade said, tapping a finger against her cheek as she glowered at him. "She kinda pissed us off last time we met."

** _Doesn't mean we still can't just-_**

"We? Still talking to the voices in your head, Wade?" Rourke chuckled, and the whip slid out of Wade's grasp. It was a good sign. "So I take it you want something with her?"

"Something like that," Wade said, turning to face him. "She important to you?"

Rourke gave a small snort. "Of course not. I have no real interest in her. She's outlived her purpose anyway. Take her if you'd like."

Wade opened his arms for a hug. "Rourke! You're such a good friend, how could I repay you?"

Rourke grinned at him, a feral thing. Not much made Wade want to back away slowly before poking it full of holes, but he knew what Rourke was capable of, and he really wasn't interested in a fight, not now.

_But I am. Come on, just a little scrap, then we can go._

_ **Oh hush, you know the bitch is going to give us a lovely little fight anyways.**_

"Shut up, both of you, I am trying to have a civil conversation," Wade grumbled, then turned back to Rourke. "So I can just take her?"

Rourke snatched a key off the table and tossed it at Wade. "Take her, and get out of my sight. I have things to do, Wade. And if I see you again, you won't like the result."

"Right, got it, come on pretty lady, we're gonna have a date night," Wade said, undoing the locks and then scooping her up.

She came alive in his arms, fighting and scratching with her good arm, but Wade had her held so that she couldn't get any real leverage. He gave Rourke a quick wave and then pressed a well placed thumb into her neck, smiling when she went limp in his arms. Birdy was going to be so happy when he brought her back.

-.-

_And now, it truly begins. _

Clint brushed his fingers over the coordinates in his phone, not looking as Peter punched them into a GPS. "Probably going to be in the sewers."

"Of course. Because all the bad guys are in the sewers. I swear, they have a guidebook they all follow," Peter said. "You ready?"

Clint picked up the new bow Tony had made him, slinging the quiver over one shoulder as he got to his feet. "As ready as I'll ever be. You...you sure we're going to do this?"

Peter smiled at him, and even though he couldn't see it through the mask, he knew from the way the fabric wrinkled. "Positive. And I'm always right, you'll see."


	4. Chapter 4

__**Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I just started college so things are really crazy here. Hope you all like the next chapter. I'm thinking there's going to be two more to this story at the most. Reviews are loved.**

_And now, it truly begins. _

Clint brushed his fingers over the coordinates in his phone, not looking as Peter punched them into a GPS. "Probably going to be in the sewers."

"Of course. Because all the bad guys are in the sewers. I swear, they have a guidebook they all follow," Peter said. "You ready?"

Clint picked up the new bow Tony had made him, slinging the quiver over one shoulder as he got to his feet. "As ready as I'll ever be. You...you sure we're going to do this?"

Peter smiled at him, and even though he couldn't see it through the mask, he knew from the way the fabric wrinkled. "Positive. And I'm always right, you'll see."

-.-

_ Some feathers are more important to flight than others. Some you won't notice. The others though? I'll make sure you notice. _

Peter landed on the roof of the warehouse and Clint sprung from his back, catching himself a moment after he lost his balance. He glanced over to see Peter rubbing at his ear beneath his mask and wished he could read the other's expression when he turned to glance at him.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Perfectly fine," Peter said. "So we're at the coordinates. Did the text say anything else?"

"Said to head inside, that we'd be able to find our way into the tunnel," Clint said, heading for a hatch near the left side of the roof. It was unlocked and he was able to tug it open easily and look through it. There was a ladder that led to the bottom, but other than that, he didn't see anything but a bare, cement floor.

He headed down it, Peter close behind him. A further inspection of the room revealed nothing but a door on the far side of the building. The wall facing the street had a garage door for trucks to move through, but it was dead-bolted by two heavy beams of steel. There were no windows. The only way out would be to climb the ladder back up and-

There was a clang and when he turned, Peter was staring up at the now closed hatch. "Well I guess we're locked in."

"Really? Didn't notice," Clint said, sarcasm heavy in his voice as he tensed. He went back to examining their prison, leaving his bow on his back as he drew his handgun instead. In such a confined space, it wouldn't be practical to have the bow out just yet. He glanced to the other wall he hadn't checked and saw a single door.

Tense, he aimed the gun there. As if on cue, the door swung open and Rourke sauntered through, Natasha slung over his shoulder. His medium length hair was tugged back in a short ponytail, revealing a sharp jaw covered in the scruff of a man who hadn't shaved in a few days, and he smiled as he set Natasha down in front of him, her face covered by a bag. His broad hands were clenched around her waist, holding her upright as her knees buckled

"That's not Natasha," Clint said slowly.

Sure, the arm was broken, but the build was all wrong. He hadn't been able to see that until Rourke had set her down.

"How very astute of you, Agent Barton," Rourke said with a wide grin, hands sliding up the woman's body, past her bound arms, over her shoulders to wrap around her neck. "But as I said, I wanted no one but you and your spider. It seems this innocent woman will have to die for your crimes."

"What?" Clint asked, whirling to look at Peter.

The other was pulling off his mask, dropping it on the ground as his jaw tensed.

"Peter," Clint said. "What did you do?"

"Yes Peter, what did you do?" Rourke asked, his tone nearly hysterical in it's mocking. "Tell the bird what you did, tell him about how you went behind his back. Tell him about the little chatters in your ear."

"Peter."

Peter scratched at his ear, revealing the comm device in t he palm of his hand as he raised his gaze to meet Clint's. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to come in here alone. I've...been in contact with Fury. I didn't think he'd be able to hear it."

"And now, she must die for both of your foolish mistakes," Rourke said, and before either of them could so much as twitch, he gave a brutal twist of his wrist and let the woman fall to the ground without so much a whimper.

"Where's Natasha?" Clint demanded, pushing aside his racing thoughts as he tried to avoid looking at the woman on the ground.

"I don't know," Rourke said with a shrug.

"What the hell do you mean you don't know?" Clint shouted.

"Clint, he's got nothing to hold over us, let's just deal with this," Peter said, then raced past the other assassin, shooting a line of webbing forward.

Rourke caught the line and yanked Peter forward, and from then on, it became a blur. Clint tossed the gun aside and drew his bow, engaging the first electrical arrow and drawing it back, eyes tracking Rourke and Peter carefully. He wasn't sure if Peter was using the acid-infused webbing or not, as Rourke was ripping it off too fast for him to give it any time to sink in and have an effect.

Peter leapt away, swing up towards the ceiling and giving Clint the opening he needed. He fired the arrow, grinning when three claw like appendages sprang out and sunk deep into Rourke's back. He couldn't tell if it had made it all the way through the man's thick jacket, but he decided the best way to check was to turn the dial up on the remote strapped to his belt.

The man went down mid-step, the air crackling with static and energy. It gave Peter the opening he needed to drop down onto the man and cover him with webbing.

But the next moment, the ground beneath them shook and the garage door behind them exploded, the force knocking Clint to his knees. Above them, parts of the roof caved in and SHIELD units began rappelling down thick lengths of rope. Clint scrambled back to his feet, aiming for where Rourke had been despite the fact that he could barely see anything through the dust SHIELD had created in their grand entrance.

As he edged closer, he realized that there was no sound of a fight, no sound of a struggle, and when he stumbled forward and nearly into a pit, he realized why. Rourke and Peter were nowhere to be found. All that was left was the body of the woman and a crumbling hole that led nowhere.

-.-

_You're starting to weaken. When the rest of the flock finds out? They'll leave you behind. Only this time, no one will pick you up._

"Why the fuck would you come into a mission like that? Did it not occur to you that maybe you should leave the assassinating to the assassins?" Clint was pacing in front of Fury's desk, hands rhythmically clenching into fists as he resisted the urge to punch whatever was closest.

"Perhaps I would have if you hadn't moved behind my back and actually informed me that Agent Romanoff had been taken hostage," Fury said, his own tone dangerous from where he sat.

"I didn't want to tell you because I knew you would want to do something stupid like this! And now some innocent woman is dead, and Peter and Natasha are gone," Clint said. He took a deep breath and sat down, realizing he was only going to piss Fury off and be taken off the mission if he kept it up.

"You should have been staying in touch with your handler, not me," Fury said, his voice quieter. "Natasha was gone, and Peter has never met your handler. This all would have gone much more smoothly if you had actually done your job right."

"So it's my fault?" It wasn't a question; Clint knew the answer.

"You know it is," Fury said. "So now the only question is how do we fix it. I can't call back the other Avengers. I'm taking you off this mission Agent, and assigning it to someone who trusts their handler, and their employer."

Clint got to his feet. "You can't do that sir."

"I think I can do whatever I damn well want, Agent Barton, but by all means, please continue to dig yourself into a deeper hole," Fury said, glaring at him.

Clint froze. He didn't have a good answer. He was thoroughly compromised. What kind of agent didn't report back to their handler when something went wrong? Like when their partner was taken hostage.

"Perhaps we were wrong about letting you back out onto the field," Fury said.

"Sir?"

"I'm thinking it's best to take you off duty for awhile, Agent," Fury continued, not even bothering to look at him as he went about pulling out paper work.

The door was suddenly thrown open and Tony and Bruce strode through, the first looking completely calm and utterly in control in a well tailored suit, the latter looking exhausted and dazed. Behind them, Steve hovered at the doorway, an odd move. Usually when confronting Fury about team issues, Steve was the one to talk. Fury got to his feet, turning his glare on Stark.

"Care to explain yourself, Stark?" Fury demanded. "Why are you here?"

"Got wind of a sticky situation over here so we uh, cleaned up a bit quicker than necessary and high-tailed it back. You know, I didn't want to test out the beta of this new jet I had made, but the situation seemed a little too dire to worry about proper testing," Tony said, slipping past Clint to stand in front of Fury.

"I want to point out I was against using a jet that isn't out of testing phase yet," Bruce said, giving a small wave.

"And you didn't inform me of this decision?" Fury was no longer looking at Tony, instead glaring over his shoulder at Steve, who was the leader of their mission.

"Comms broke on the jet. Can't say I know why," Steve said with a shrug. "So given that two members of our team have been taken hostage, am I free to take this mission over?"

"No you are not free to-"

"Actually, yes he is," Tony interrupted, sliding into Fury's line of sight. "Our contracts, the new ones we all signed last week, state that if any member of the team is compromised, any other member is allowed to take charge of the mission. Do you not read over these contracts anymore, Fury?"

Fury didn't respond for a moment, then straightened. "It seems my new good eye doesn't see as well as the old one."

Clint's jaw tightened. He knew Fury was trying to get further rise out of him, show to the rest of the team how volatile he was, that he couldn't be trusted out in the field. But he wasn't rising to the bait. Even if Fury was right. Clint had all but killed Fury's one good eye.

"That was a low blow, wasn't it Director?" Bruce asked quietly.

"Excuse me, Banner?"

"I know when a SHIELD agent is trying to get a rise out of someone," Bruce continued, shooting a brief glance and a smile towards Clint. "I was on the receiving end of it quite often. And I don't appreciate you trying to do the same to one of my teammates."

"So if you don't mind," Steve said, coming up behind Clint. "I'll be taking this mission over. I'll even brief you on the one we finished before I go back to the tower."

"I don't appreciate the tone of voice, Rogers," Fury interrupted. "Contract or not, I can tie you up with enough paper work that you won't be able to take over the mission."

"That still leaves you with me and Bruce," Tony said, stepping back to stand in between Steve and Bruce, effectively forming a wall between Clint and Fury. "And why would you want to tie us up anyways? We're the best people to take on this situation, and Natasha and Peter are our teammates. When we rescue them, we'll know how to play to their strengths. So tell me Fury. Why wouldn't you want us on this mission?"

Fury turned his gaze on each of them in turn, and for once, Clint was glad there was someone standing between him and his antagonist. "You have 24 hours before I suspend the mission and let someone else take over. Don't disappoint me."

-.-

_There is always that moment, no matter how dark things get, when you become hopeful once more. It makes it all the more painful when the rug is ripped from beneath you._

"Barton, grab Bruce's sleeping pills out of my right pocket, hm?" Tony asked.

He was heading for the other scientist's bedroom, and Bruce was barely walking even with Tony's arms wrapped around him to keep him upright. Clint obeyed the order wordlessly and held up the small container, which Tony took into his mouth before kicking the bedroom door open and dragging Bruce through. He lifted a finger in order for Clint to wait before shutting the door.

He emerged barely ten seconds later and linked his arm through Clint's, dragging him towards the lab. "Now let me see how many of your questions I can answer before you even open your mouth. Bruce needs sleeping pills because even though he looked like he was about to pass out, his brain never shuts off. He's going to need sleep before this thing gets going. The jet has been made for a year now and was what Steve used to get to California in the first place, so that's how we got back so quickly."

Tony paused as the elevator doors opened, then pushed the archer through before the doors slid shut behind them. "I knew about Natasha going missing because Peter was afraid you had been compromised and wanted to know how to handle it. I told him to tell Fury because I was hoping maybe he wouldn't screw things up but that didn't go so hot." He pulled Clint into the lab and forced him to sit down at one of the lab tables before taking a seat across from him. "How'd I do?"

"That's great Tony, but Natasha and Peter are still gone and I'm not fit to be on a mission," Clint said flatly.

And it was true. Everything Fury had said was true, and the only reason he had bothered to cling to the mission, to refuse to let Fury take him off of it was because even compromised, he trusted himself more than anyone else with Peter and Natasha's lives.

"Don't worry, that's why we're here," Tony said, giving him a quick grin. "We all read up on whatever was in the SHIELD database about the whole mission on our way in, so you don't have to talk much. Just do what Steve tells you and this will all be over in a heartbeat."

"Sir, I have a location on Mr. Parker," Jarvis announced.

"Thanks JARVIS," Tony said, eyes not leaving Clint's. "What's going on with you anyways, Barton?"

"You're really going to ask me that after what JARVIS just said? How the hell do you know where Peter is?"

"Obviously this Rourke guy wants to be found. He didn't remove Peter's cellphone, which I gave him," Tony said with a shrug. "I didn't bother tracking him until SHIELD was our hair though."

"How do you know he wants to be found?" Clint asked.

"He's got a vendetta against you," Tony said, expression growing serious. "People who have vendettas want to see you in pain. He's not going to kill Peter or Natasha until he's sure you're watching."

"You know everything, don't you?" Clint asked with a shake of his head.

"That's what I've been telling people," Tony said. "So. Are you okay?"

Clint's eyes narrowed. "I was unaware you gave two shits about my well being Stark."

"You might be a liability on the field. That's not to say I'm going to make Steve keep you off the field, it's just better if someone knows if you're about to have a panic attack and is prepared to help you if you do," Tony said, his tone business like. But when Clint looked in his eyes, he would almost swear he could see some sort of care there.

"I don't know," he finally answered. "Natasha got tortured because of my mistakes, and that innocent woman died for the same reason. And now...who knows what that bastard is doing to Peter. If anything, I'm more pissed at myself than I am at Rourke." He glanced down at his hands, twisting his fingers together.

"You know that annoying moment when a counselor says 'I understand'? Yeah well, I understand, Barton," Tony said, and when Clint glanced up at him, the man was looking off to the side, tapping his fingers on the table. "Lot of people got killed because of my mistakes. Sucks. And you know what? It probably is your fault that Coulson died, and that Natasha and Peter are stuck where they are."

"Tony, I'm not seeing how this is supposed to make me feel better," Clint said dryly.

Tony shrugged. "Didn't say I was trying to. My point is, your mistakes messed things up. So what are you going to do?"

"What do you want me to say?" Clint asked, spreading his arms open. "I'm just trying to save Peter and Natasha and take this stupid fucker down."

"And then what?"

"What else is there to do?" Clint asked.

"Killing Rourke isn't going to make your mistakes go away," Tony said. "Killing Obi didn't save all the people that died by the weapons he illegally sold behind my back. You kill Rourke, Coulson isn't coming back. Rourke kills you? Coulson still won't come back."

Clint stared at him, realizing then that killing Rourke wasn't going to fix his problems, not really. Why would it? He had lost control to Loki. Gotten Coulson killed. Now Peter and Natasha were paying for it, paying for his debt. But even if he paid for his mistakes, turned himself over to Rourke or let Rourke carry out his sick game, Coulson wasn't coming back. He was never coming back.

"Tony-"

"Mr. Stark, there is a Mr. Wilson requesting permission to ent-"

"Hey Birdy!"

Clint and Tony turned to see Deadpool finish manhandling the automatic doors, that had been locked shut by Jarvis, open, carrying a body over his shoulder. He deposited it on the table before them, and Natasha let out a stream of Russian curses as he jostled her broken arm in the process.

Except the arm that had been broken was in a cast and she had a sling cradling it to her body. Her fingers were also in their own casts. She flopped her head back down onto the table and then turned her head to look at Clint.

"Hey. Your crazy assassin friend rescued me," she said. "So we can go after Rourke now."

"You know, that Rourke guy is not someone to be messed with," Wade said. "I really think it's better if you avoid him, I told you guys that."

"How did you get past JARVIS?" Tony asked, not sparing a glance at Natasha.

"I'm Deadpool," Wade said in answer. "So did I do a good job, Birdy?"

Clint shook his head to clear it and then looked over at the masked assassin. "Yeah, yeah, thanks Wade. Natasha..."

"I would really like to be taken to SHIELD medical now, if that's at all possible," she said quietly as Wade and Tony began to bicker on the other side of the table.

"He got Peter," Clint said, holding his arms out to her.

She twisted herself into a semi-upright position and then rolled into his grasp, grunting a bit as he helped her onto her feet. They both glanced at the assassin and Tony before heading for the mangled door.

"Did he now?" she asked.

"We have to get him back," Clint said firmly, mind rolling through what he and Tony had discussed. "Then we kill him."

"And you move on?" She swung to stand in front of him, eyes holding his. "This man is demented. He's going to make Peter hurt, and he's going to do what he can to make you hurt. But whatever he says, it's a lie."

"Not a lie, Nat," Clint said, smiling despite it. "My mistakes did get Coulson killed. And you kidnapped and hurt. I fucked up. But I guess whining over it won't fix anything."

"You're going to kill yourself with the guilt," Natasha said, eyes narrowing.

"No I'm not," Clint said. "Really. I've figured this out, I think. Me dying, my feeling guilty...it's not going to bring Coulson back. It's better if I move on."

Natasha was too trained to look impressed, or disgusted, or whatever it was she was feeling. Clint was usually able to guess but he truly couldn't tell now looking at her. "I don't know if I'm impressed or worried for your sanity." Then she turned on her heel and began to stride down the hallway. "So what's our attack plan? I assume you have one."

"Not really," Clint said, following after her.

"Oh, lovely."

"Well, Stark has a location on Peter, which is an improvement," Clint said. "We can go in guns blazing I think. Tony says no one's touching Peter until Rourke knows I'm watching."

"Seems like him, doesn't it?" Natasha said. She paused at the elevator, stepping inside when the doors opened with Clint on her heels. The number for her floor automatically lit up, thanks to Jarvis.

"I guess." Clint glanced at her as the elevator took them up. "Are you okay Nat?"

"He's an amateur in comparison to what we've both dealt with," she said.

"He's doing a lot of damage for an amateur."

"Could be worse." The doors slid open and she stepped out, crooking her finger for him to follow down towards her bedroom. "If you can get past his armor skin, you can take him out."

"Tony gave Peter and I some new toys," Clint said. "Though I bet the ones Peter had on him are broken by now."

"Did Stark make me anything?" she asked, hovering in the doorway of her room.

Clint shrugged. "Don't know. So do you wanna go to SHIELD or just get some sleep?"

"Sleep is good," she said. "I'd ask you for some company but-" She held up her cast.

"Hey you've done it in worse condition," Clint said with a smile.

She rolled her eyes. "Wake me up when we have a plan. Even if I can't fight, I want to know what's going on."

"Yes ma'am." Natasha opened the door and began to walk through it. "Hey, Nat? I'm glad you're okay."

She turned and gave him a small nod and shut the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hrgh, this story is finally done. Thank god. There's going to be more to this series, for the record. But don't expect anything for awhile. I hope you've all enjoyed this, thanks so much for the support. Remember to check out my account on Archive of Our Own in case my account here gets deleted or something. I don't own Marvel. Reviews are loved. **_  
_

_It's a game, to see who breaks first. Not between you and I though. I am already broken. _

Peter struggled against the chains that bound him to the wall, not for the first time since he had been captured and dragged away.

"Not even I could break those chains, you'd do well to stop struggling." Rourke's voice came from somewhere in the fathomless dark, but Peter had given up trying to strain his eyes to see over an hour ago.

"Sorry, I don't give up easily. Besides, if this annoys you-" Peter rattled the chains against the wall again, "-All the better for me."

"I am beyond such emotions, so by all means, continue."

"News flash, no one's above their emotions, you're still human."

"I. Am. Not. Human!"

"Jeeze, don't sound so proud," Peter said, finally letting himself hang from t he chains. His shoulders were cramping, but there wasn't anything he could do. "So you're not human, you're above emotions, so on so forth. What's the point in all of this then?"

"Revenge."

"Well that much was obvious," Peter said, his shrug rattling the chains once more. "So you're still capable of anger. Sorry buddy, looks like you're still-"

A hand wrapped firmly around his throat, the action slamming his head against the concrete. Sparks of light danced over his blinded vision, the throb in his head spreading through his body as a low, dull ache.

"I don't want to kill you, not yet, but I will if you finish that sentence." The hand released him and he sagged forward with a harsh cough, followed by the quick dragging of air into his lungs.

"Yeah, yeah, point made," he said once his breath was back. "You realize it's not Clint fault, right?"

"Isn't it though?"

"Loki's a god, Coul-"

"Not another word!"

Peter sucked in a harsh breath of air as the fist drove into his stomach, knocking out the breath he had just regained. Silence was better. Yes, silence. You couldn't reason with a mad man, he knew that, and sometimes it was better to just...keep his mouth shut.

-.-

"JARVIS," Clint said. "You're recording all of this aren't you?"

"I must Mr. Barton. Mr. Stark has insisted," Jarvis said.

Clint shoved the final arrow into his sheath, then slung it over his shoulder. "But you don't have to tell him about it, do you?"

"At the present moment, Mr. Stark is asleep and it would be rude to waken him for at least another two hours."

Clint grinned, knowing that Jarvis could awaken Tony if he really wanted to, but was choosing not to. "Are Peter's coordinates on my phone?"

"Mr. Stark downloaded the coordinates onto everyone's phone."

Clint examined the coordinates after turning on his phone, then pocketed. "Alright then. I'm going out JARVIS. Tell them where I am when they wake up."

"Of course Mr. Barton. Good luck."

-.-

Rourke was a man of habit, that much was obvious. He stuck to the sewers, though unlike the previous few times, he was clear on the other side of the city. Having spent so long at the Avengers tower, and thus a long time in the city, Clint made it across town in record time before popping the closest sewer lid up and dropping down inside.

The emergency lights were all on, casting a bright light onto the cement walls. In white paint along the wall across from him was a welcome message.

_Time to play. _

Clint expected something like this. After all, it was a game. A game to see if Rourke could get his revenge, break Clint the way Clint had inadvertently broken him. The fact that Rourke seemed to know what way he would enter the sewers was slightly unnerving, but again, not unexpected. He didn't bother looking for anything else, anymore clues. He had Peter's coordinates and he could follow those just fine.

But he learned that having the coordinates didn't matter, because the sewer tunnel only went one direction after the message, an assurance that at some point, Clint would have had to pass the paint-covered walls. The tunnel twisted and turned a bit, but remained completely straight otherwise, sucking him deeper. Until Jarvis came alive on his phone.

"Mr. Barton, if you go any further you will be under the harbor."

"Thanks JARVIS." He paused, glancing down at the phone. "Contact Tony in fifteen minutes."

"Of course Mr. Barton."

Clint pocketed the phone and started forward once more. He didn't stop walking when the lights flickered out, only pulling out the flashlight and continuing on. His heart rate kicked up even as his breathing slowed. It was a deliberate change. The last few times, he had messed up because of the wild tangling of emotions that prevented him from thinking clearly. Normally on missions, he would drop into a focused state, forcing everything from his mind except for the mission itself.

He had achieved that, finally, for the first time since Coulson had died. He was focused, the flitting thoughts boxed neatly away in the back of his mind.

Clint paused when he reached a door. A quick flash of his light to the left and right revealed that the flow of sewage water stopped at a brick wall, a small tunnel letting a tiny amount of water continue on into the next room. He took a deep breath, then tested the door handle. It clicked open easily and then swung open, revealing nothing but inky darkness past the threshold.

The moment he stepped through, the emergency lights flickered on, casting the circular room in a sickly yellow glow. His eyes took in the thick cables that wrapped their way around the walls, interrupted only by bundles of blinking bombs clustered together. Against the far side of the wall, Peter slumped against the wall, a gun in his hands, mask tossed towards the center of the room. He had a moment to realize Rourke was nowhere to be found before he was seized from behind and thrown up against the wall.

Air was forced from his lungs by a driving punch to his stomach, another to his head, and then he was dropped on the ground. By the time his thoughts came back together, his weapons were gone and there was a gun in his hand, but not his. Slowly, he looked up, swallowing as he met Rourke's eyes. There was a look there he hadn't seen before. A look of determination and glee.

"Well, as you boys both know," Rourke began, clapping his hands together once. "A bullet isn't going to kill me, so don't bother trying. But you two? Oh you two are mortal."

Clint looked across the room to look at Peter, frowning when the other hero wouldn't look at him, instead just toying with the gun, dirtied fingers running up and down the muzzle.

"So, are you ready for the game, Clint Barton?" Rourke knelt in front of him, a few brown locks of hair escaping his short ponytail to drift in front of his eyes. "Either you die, repent for your sins...or he does." He got back to his feet, moving towards the center of the room. "Of course I'll give you time to think it over. I'm not that cruel after all. This is a life or death situation, I can't rush you, oh no. You have two minutes."

Rourke walked towards the door, pushing it open.

"Two minutes until what?" Clint asked, gaze following him.

"Until well...boom." Rourke left the room, door swinging shut behind him followed by the click of a lock.

The moment he was out of sight, Clint got to his feet, dashing towards Peter as best he could and wrenching the gun out of his hands to toss it a few feet away. "Jesus, Peter, why didn't you help me?"

Peter sighed, leaning back and finally looking at Clint. His eyes were clouded over with something, resignation, doubt, despair, he wasn't sure. "Because I can't take that guy down at all. I tried fighting him all the way back here, didn't do me any good at all."

"So? We could've taken him-"

"No, we couldn't have Clint! That's just it! We tried, and it didn't work. It wouldn't have worked in the first place, SHIELD just gave him the chance to drag me down here. Nothing changes. He's too strong. I can't protect myself, and I can't protect you so just...stop." Peter hung his head once more, refusing to look up even when Clint prodded at his chin.

"I have my bow-"

Peter gestured over towards the side. "He snapped it in half, in case you didn't notice." Clint followed the hand, wincing when he saw that Peter was right. "So, we're royally screwed. We can't...win this one. I can't win this one."

"Hey, hey, no. JARVIS told Tony about this," Clint said. His hands clenched around Peter's shoulders, shoving him back against the wall. "And you took out Bullseye, and Goblin, and-"

"And a ton of people died before I succeeded," Peter bit out, eyes harsh as he met Clint's gaze again. "Look, Clint, we aren't getting out of this one. This room's rigged to blow, and who's to say Rourke won't let it go off the moment Tony decides to come rescue us?"

"So what, we give up?"

"No, you can stay," Peter said.

Clint's gaze sharpened. "No, you are not giving up on me. Not after all this. I thought you were...better."

Peter gave a short laugh. "Yeah well, that Rourke guy. He's pretty good at making me feel like I'm the worst hero ever. Brought up every single one of my failures...failed Gwen, Mary Jane, Matt...you. Look, I'm not even a real Avenger. Rourke is that special kind of crazy. If one of us goes, he won't blow us to pieces."

"Peter, I'm not letting you go near another gun," Clint said.

"Last time I checked, I didn't need your permission."

Clint reeled back too late, and Peter rocked forward to rip the gun out of his hands, pressing it to his temple. In the next moment, Clint had rolled back to grab the other gun to shove it against the side of his own head. Peter froze.

"Yeah, okay, you go, I go," Clint said. "That clear?" He held Peter's stunned gaze, jaw tightening. "I said is that clear?"

"Yeah, crystal," Peter said, though the gun stayed pressed to his temple.

"Good. Now. Listen to me. I figured something out," Clint said. "And you gotta know, before all this shit goes down, okay? Gotta hear what I figured out." He rocked back onto his heels, gun not leaving his head. "It was my fault Coulson died, okay? Totally my fault. Probably your fault that Gwen, and Mary Jane, and Matt died too, if we're all being entirely honest with each other."

Clint's jaw spasmed when his eyes caught sight of Peter's finger tightening on the trigger. "Hey, hear me out alright? We fucked up a lot, and that sucks. I know I spent forever trying to convince you that all of that wasn't your fault, but I was wrong. We were both wrong. We fucked up _everything_ but we can't give up now, okay? We can't let Rourke win-"

"So what are we going to do Clint?" Peter demanded, getting to his feet. "Great, we're failures at life, we messed everything up. What, you want me to move on? You want to move on? Okay, sure, let's do that, just in time to die. Either we both die, or only one of us does. Just let it be me."

"No, no, Peter you aren't listening to me," Clint said as he took a step towards him. "You're right, either one of us dies, or we both do. We've made a lot of mistakes, but we can end this now. We aren't going to let our last moments be us screwing it all up again, you hear me?"

Peter's eyes widened as realization dawned on him, and Clint felt a knot in his chest loosen and give way. "You..."

"Yeah," Clint said with a small nod. "That."

Peter nodded, gun lowering a bit as a twisted smile formed on his face. "Guess we won't be messing this one up, will we?"

"We'd be awful heroes if we did," Clint said with a smile of his own. "I'm sorry that my mistakes caught up with you."

"Yeah, it's fine," Peter said with a shrug. "Thanks. For saying all that earlier. You know the whole, move on, we're okay people even if we messed up. It...it makes me feel a bit better about all this."

The lock on the door clicked and the door banged open for Rourke to stroll through. "Well boys? Have you made you're decision?"

"Yeah, I have," Clint said, turning to face him. "Just let me say one last thing."

Rourke rolled his eyes, but then spread his arms open as if for a hug. "Of course. Allow me to hear your last words as you finally crumble."

"I'm sorry," Clint said, ignoring Peter's sharp intake of breath. "I killed Coulson, on accident. I loved him like you did, so I'm sorry. I deserve all the shit you've done to me, on some level I guess. But it's okay. Because I'm going to stop your pain now."

He wasn't sure if Rourke understood what he meant, but from the way the man frowned, and then began to smile, he guessed he did.

"What a brave little bird," Rourke said. "I guess this is truly breaking you, isn't it?"

"No, that's not the way I see it," Clint said, aiming his gun at one of the many bombs that cluttered over the wall.

"Allow me to just believe that I have won, and that I have broken you. Allow us to both feel as if we have won," Rourke said with a smile. "And let this all be done and over with."

"I think I finally understand you," Clint said. "Just took a damn long time."

Rourke gave a small nod. "Well played." He pulled out his own gun. "You know, I knew you'd figure it out. That's why I made sure there were enough explosives to take us all out. Yes, even me, don't look so surprised." Rourke glanced at Peter and rolled his eyes before drawing his own gun and aiming it at another cluster of bombs. "You should know...living without the person that made life worth anything at all is...impossible. I am ready to go."

"This is it then?" Clint asked.

"Indeed it is," Rourke said with a wide grin.

Clint locked his gaze with Rourke's finger tightening on the trigger. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and fired.

The world exploded into water and flame.

-.-

When Peter woke, his first instinct was to find Clint. That instinct was quickly subdued by the way every nerve in his body was set on fire the moment he sat up. Through the pain that fogged over his eyes, he made out that he was in a hospital bed, covered in bandages, with casts on both his arms. An alarm pinged incessantly, making his ears ring as he reoriented himself.

A nurse moved somewhere to his left, and a moment later, his system was flooded with painkillers, letting him think a little bit past the pain, thoughts only having to break through the haze of drugs. The nurse offered him a small smile as his vision came into focus.

"You've had quite the rough night," she said with a nod. "But you're going to be just fine, no need to panic."

"How bad?" he asked, throat feeling scratchy.

The nurse moved to the end of his bed, picking his file up off the rack. "Broken arms, broken collarbone, right leg broken in three places, seven broken ribs, two cracked, a concussion, and a small skull fracture." She set the file back down. "You're doing a lot better now. Those explosions would have killed any normal man, but you're healing factor and tougher body saved you, not to mention-"

Peter's mind processed her words, then stuck on one particular phrase. _Would have killed any normal man. Any normal man. Normal man. Clint. Clint. He's dead, he's dead, he's-_

"What did you say to him?" A doctor had entered.

"I just said that-"

"I heard what you said! You can't just-" Stark.

"If you don't calm down we're going to have to ask you to-"

"Where's Clint?" The words tore out of his throat, making his chest throb and his eyes ache, finally coming back into focus in and taking the collection of people at the foot of his bed. Stark, the nurse, some doctor. They all stared at him like he was insane.

"Peter-" Tony began.

"No, you," Peter said, a finger twitching in the direction of the nurse. "You said no normal man could've survived those explosions."

The nurse's eyes narrowed. "You didn't let me finish."

"The man's distressed, perhaps you should have told him his boyfriend is alive before you go and say something stupid again," Tony interrupted, then looked at the doctor. "She should be fired. If she isn't, I'm suing all of you. Jesus, people say I don't understand emotions. Out, neither of you can do your jobs right."

Peter flopped back on the pillows as Tony shut the door behind the nurse and doctor before striding over to his bedside, dragging up a chair and sitting down. He looked over at the man, heart rate finally settling back down. "So he's alive?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "And Rourke's dead. I grabbed you both as the explosions went off, got JARVIS to activate a new prototype shield of mine. I got to Clint first, so he took less damage than you. The shields failed at one point, but absorbed most of the explosion." He shook his head. "You guys are lucky JARVIS actually alerted me in time to save your asses."

"Yeah, I guess," Peter said, turning to look at the ceiling instead.

"You know he must really love you," Tony said as he got to his feet.

Peter's eyes narrowed, but he didn't look at the other. "What?"

"Went after you alone like that, didn't trust anyone but himself to really have your back. Sure, I was a back up plan, but no one goes in alone as their first plan unless they're willing to sacrifice everything to make sure it goes right."

"I..."

"Just think about it. Sleep tight."

Peter wanted to think about what Tony was trying to tell him, but his mind wrapped around the fact that Clint was alive and well before succumbing to the darkness and warmth of sleep.

-.-

Clint ran his hand through Peter's hair, nuzzling the younger's jaw as his other hand pressed randomly at the remote buttons until the television clicked off. Peter's hand was soothing as it pressed against the back of his neck, firm and warm. It had been two weeks since they had both been cleared to leave the hospital, a little worse for wear, but other wise functioning, and they hadn't said a word about what had happened down under the bay.

Part of him was scared to know. Peter had been so close to giving up and actually...putting a bullet through his brain. Sure, he had been struggling with the same thing for months but it was different, seeing Peter with the gun to his head, his gaze determined.

"We're going to talk about this now, aren't we?" Peter asked, his tone resigned as he sat up a bit straighter from where he was reclined, Clint curled up on his chest.

"Yeah," Clint said, pulling himself up a bit so he could look at Peter. "All of it."

Peter gave him a small smile, then leaned forward to give him a small kiss. The last few weeks, Peter had been doing things like that, small kisses and touches he had done before, but never to such a degree. It was...odd, off putting, and reminded him a bit too much of Coulson. Like they were actually a committed couple instead of two guys that cared a lot for each other and shared the occasional make out session and hand job.

"Maybe we should start with what you said down there," Clint said, clearing his head of his other thoughts.

"I'm sorry about that," Peter said with a wince. "All of that, everything. I haven't felt that low since...since just after Matt died." He shook his head. "I guess I still feel that way on some level, but you have to trust me Clint, you've made me feel a lot better about everything. Rourke just had a way with words, you know? Making you feel like you weren't worth anything." He looked down at his lap, fingers twisting together.

"Yeah." Clint reached out, wrapping his hand around one of Peter's. "I'm glad though, that you realized I was right."

Peter looked up at him through his bangs. "Glad you figured yourself out before you came down and saved me."

"Once I figured myself out, I couldn't _not_ go down and save you," Clint said with a small smile. "Killing Rourke, it didn't bring Coulson back. And you dying won't bring Matt back, or Gwen or Mary Jane. And me dying isn't bringing back any of the people I've killed back either. It's...stupid to get caught up in all the guilt, revenge...all of it. It's dumb."

Peter gave a short laugh, pressing his forehead to Clint's. "Maybe not the most eloquent description I've heard, but you're right. We can't keep dwelling about our failures. We've just gotta figure out how to not mess up again."

Clint's expression grew serious as one hand came up, fingers drifting over Peter's jaw. "I was ready to die down there you know. But not because I was giving up. I thought it was the only way we could take Rourke down and stop him from doing anything crazier."

"I know, Clint," Peter said, sighing against his lips. "I get it. You aren't about to put a gun to your head. And neither am I. We're both moving on. That's what you're trying to tell me, right? That you're moving on?"

Clint's eyes closed for a moment, then he nodded. "Yeah. Finally."

"Hey, things will only get better from here on out," Peter said, and Clint could hear the smile in his voice before he felt it against his lips. "We're going to be okay. Both of us."

Clint opened his eyes as Peter drew back. "So what are we doing?"

Peter's eyes had a guarded look to them. "What do you want to be doing?"

"I'm not going to force you into a relationship you don't want," Clint said, sliding a hand up to rest along Peter's collarbone. "I know whatever the hell I feel for you, it's more than fuck buddies, or friends. But I gotta know if you feel the same way."

"I said I was willing to let this turn into whatever it wanted," Peter said. "And I meant that. I guess I've just been waiting for you."

Clint rolled so he was straddling Peter's waist. "I'm done waiting for you. And you're done waiting for me. I'm yours."

Peter's hands settled on Clint's hips and he smiled up at the older man. "I've been wanting to hear that for a long time."

Clint let Peter pull him down into a kiss, then rested his face in the crook of the man's neck. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Clint didn't answer, instead smiling against Peter's neck and letting the last knot in his chest loosen and give way.

-.-

"Did you have a chance to come down yet?" Natasha asked as she pushed Clint's coffee across the counter.

Clint traced a finger around the edge before bringing it up to his lips, sipping at it. Naturally, Natasha had made it just the way he liked it. He wondered for a moment, how angry she was going to be when he answered her question. "I haven't since Coulson died."

"Peter hasn't-"

"No," Clint answered, meeting her gaze. "No one has."

"Clint, you're an idiot. No wonder you've been next to useless on just about every mission," she said, blue eyes sparking angrily as she drew back. "Of course you're still better than an average SHIELD agent, but if you don't find a way to come back down and get yourself together, I'm telling Fury to give you a leave of absence."

Clint sighed. "Nat, there isn't anyone who can-"

"Have you _tried_ talking to Peter about it?"

"No, he wouldn't get it."

"Fine, then go to someone else and get yourself fixed," Natasha said. Her tone told him she didn't want any further argument.

"You know it isn't that easy," Clint said, snatching his cup off the counter as he headed for the hallway.

"True, but if you let yourself go much longer, you're going to crash and no one's going to know how to put you back together."

Clint ignored her, instead continuing on to his room and wrenching open the door. Peter was sprawled on his bed, limbs tangled up in the sheets as if he had been unconsciously searching for Clint's warmth. It made something in his chest twist. He let the door click shut quietly before setting his coffee down on the dresser and crawling into the bed. Peter's eyes opened, but instead of pushing himself up, he curled around Clint, tucking him against his chest.

"Good morning," Peter murmured, hand pushing up the fabric of his shirt so his fingers could trail against the archer's spine.

"Define good."

Peter chuckled, the sound deep in Clint's ear against his chest. "Got a lot of ways I could define it." He yawned and then kissed Clint's forehead before pulling back, pushing Clint away so that he could look at him better. His expression grew concerned and Clint almost wished he could avoid answering the question he knew Peter was going to ask. "Is something wrong?"

"I guess you could say that," he said, flopping back so that his head was dangling off the other side of the bed, feet on Peter's lap. "Natasha was lecturing me again. And she's right. Again."

"You gonna tell me what about or are you going to keep on whining?"

Clint toyed with the edge of the bedspread, contemplating the best way to put it into words. A groaning sigh escaped his lips when Peter took the opportunity to start massaging at his leg, fingers digging into the tense muscles. "I almost had a coherent thought going there."

"I could stop," Peter said, tone teasing. He didn't cease his actions.

"Remember what I said?" Clint asked. "About how...Coulson used to take me apart after missions, then put me back together?"

"Yeah," Peter said, fingers dipping down to his ankle and then pushing the fabric of his sweatpants up so he could trail his bare hands up and down the archer's leg. "And I told you I could do that for you, if you needed me to."

"I...you don't understand," Clint said. "It's not something you just _do_. Phil knew just what I needed."

"What is it that you need Clint?" Peter asked. His voice was patient, and concerned. For a fleeting moment, Clint let himself believe that Peter could actually do what he needed.

"I don't want to think," Clint said quietly, eyes slipping close. "Phil had a way of doing it. Made me just float, got my mind to empty and not focus on anything else. It...isn't exactly something I'd expect you to do."

"So how does this connect to Natasha?" Peter's hands shifted over to his other leg.

"Natasha thinks the whole reason I've been messing up so bad is I haven't gotten my head sorted since he died," Clint said. "My mind is just...a million places at once, I've got no _direction._ And it's frustrating."

"What did Phil do for you?" Peter asked.

Clint flushed, eyes opening a bit. "I..."

"I'm not going to laugh at you or something," Peter said, "Just tell me what it is."

"He...this is going to sound bad, but he'd order me around," Clint said. "Just...give me direction. And I'd do it, and he'd reward me. It...made me feel more centered I guess."

"I can work with that," Peter said, releasing his leg to grab his wrist and pull him up so that they were sitting facing each other. "If you're comfortable letting me." His hand brushed up Clint's cheek to tangle briefly in his blond hair before releasing him and heading for the bathroom. "I'll be back in a second."

Clint laid back out on the bed after the door shut. Peter hadn't judged him, hadn't thought he was weird, just accepted what he said and still offered to help. It made his stomach flip a bit, knowing that Peter was willing to do whatever he asked if he thought it would help, and maybe made him a bit nervous too. By the time Peter returned, his breath smelling of toothpaste, Clint had made up his mind.

Peter stretched out on the bed, back against the headboard. "Are we going to try this?"

"Yeah," Clint said with a nod.

"Good. Just tell me if I'm doing something wrong or make you uncomfortable, okay?"

Clint rolled his eyes and nodded. It should have been him guiding Peter, given that he had the most experience, but it was nice to give up that control once again. He didn't have to worry about how things were going to go, Peter was going to take care of it all.

"Now, come here," Peter said.

Clint moved closer, skin jumping when Peter laid a hand against the back of his neck. Peter pulled him in for a kiss, surprisingly light and chaste as his thumb rubbed into the back of Clint's neck, just at his hairline. The hand guided him back and then down towards his crotch.

Clint felt his muscles loosen as he pulled back the fabric of Peter's pants, eyes fluttering when Peter squeezed his neck in approval. He didn't use his hands, instead dipping down to take the head of Peter's half erect cock into his mouth. Peter sighed, hand stroking down his back over the fabric of his shirt. Given that it was their first time going this far, Clint was surprised how normal it felt to be as intimate as they were.

"Perfect," Peter said, hand returning to the skin of his neck. "Little bit more."

The archer obeyed, tonguing the slit briefly before taking his length deeper, bopping his head. His eyes widened though when an odd pulling sensation tingled along his neck where Peter's hand lay against his flesh, but before he could give it much thought, Peter was speaking.

"Not your job to worry about it, just let me take care of everything," Peter said. His words were almost breathless, but his touch was firm and steady, so Clint obeyed the order and went back to giving the pleasure of his mouth.

The odd feeling continued along his neck, but he didn't spare it much thought, instead letting his mind focus on the feel of Peter in his mouth, the taste of him. But then he was being pulled back and Peter had sucked him into another kiss, tongue fucking into his mouth roughly as the feeling on his neck intensified to the point that he was gasping, chest heaving against Peter's.

Peter released him abruptly. The tingling in his neck ceased and he curled into Peter's chest as his mind spun at the change in mood. But Peter didn't let him think for much longer, instead tugging his shirt up and off and pressing both of his hands to Clint's bared chest, fingers toying with his nipples. The feeling returned again, this time more pleasurable and sending heat to pool in his groin.

"Wha-"

"Not a word," Peter murmured, lips trailing along his jaw, sliding down to his neck. He eased back, pulling Clint forward so that he was straddling Peter's waist. "Now stroke me off."

Clint obeyed mindlessly, hand wrapping around Peter's cock as his chest arched into the other's torturing fingers. His mind hazed over, unsure if it wanted Peter's ministrations to continue or stop, and then he gave up on thinking and just concentrated on doing what Peter wanted.

"Good, there we go," Peter said, his voice a low hum as his fingers eased up just a bit.

Clint nearly sobbed in relief, unaware of how much his senses were being overwhelmed until Peter gave him a bit of respite. At the choked noise, Peter stopped whatever he was doing altogether, hands sliding around to his back and running up and down his spine soothingly, praises dropping from his lips and into Clint's ear as Clint continued to pump his cock.

"Stop," Peter ordered, his voice strained.

Clint obeyed, panting as Peter pushed him down onto his back. For a moment, Peter disappeared from his vision, and then hands were stripping his own pants down. Moments later, Peter stretched out on top of him, their cocks grinding against each other in a delicious friction that made Clint's hips pop up and slide against him.

Barely a second after he moved, Peter's hand was twisted in his hair, arching his neck back with a rough pull and a harsh bite into the skin of his collarbone. He didn't bother restraining the cry in his chest, trembling beneath Peter's dominating hand.

"Don't. Move."

The order was hissed, rough and harsh against Clint's ear. It was a difficult order to obey, even more so when Peter began to thrust against him, teeth catching his earlobe. He began to whimper and whine, not thinking clearly enough to be embarrassed by the noises.

"Good," Peter said, the motions stopping. "Think you need a reward for doing such a good job."

He pulled back, and where Phil had looked down at him with an impenetrable sternness, the look Peter gave him was one of adoration and pride. His breath caught, moments before Peter ducked out of view and his cock was swallowed down in wet heat. Before he could adjust, Peter had pulled back again, breath harsh against his skin.

"Let me hear you," he murmured.

Clint's back arched as Peter took his cock into his mouth once more, hands trailing down Clint's chest to grip at his hips. The tingling feeling returned and a groan in the shape of Peter's name slid from his lips. And then a hand moved down to massage over his thigh, then closer until his fingers were drifting teasingly over his balls. The tingling intensified and he gave a choked cry, hips thrusting forward as he came, hands clawing at the sheets.

He fell limp against the sheets as Peter pulled himself up to curl around Clint's trembling form. Clint let himself float, nestling into Peter's neck and mouthing at his neck, sucking a mark into his skin. Peter hummed, too quiet to hear but he could feel it in the man's chest. Slowly he came back into his own body, awareness flooding into his limbs in a dull ache that drew a soft sight from his lips. Peter pulled him into a kiss, then pulled back so they could look at each other.

"Was that good?" he asked, blue eyes searching his for confirmation

Clint nodded. "Yeah. Real good. Perfect." He grinned when he felt Peter's length still hard against his thigh. "Should I take care of that?"

Peter flushed a bit. "If you want."

"Yeah, I want." He slid away, kissing his way down Peter's chest before taking the other's cock into his mouth once more. One hand moved to keep Peter's hips pinned, but he didn't tease the man, wanting to bring Peter over the edge the way the man had done for him.

Peter reached his climax with a quiet groan of Clint's name, his release spilling across his tongue and down his throat. Clint teased his tongue over the slit as he finished tasting the fluid before kissing his way back up Peter's chest to his lips. Peter eagerly kissed him back, tongue tangling with his to get a taste. It was hotter than Clint thought it would be, and he nipped at Peter's lip, licking his way deeper so that he could give him better access.

Slowly, they came back down to reality, the kisses tapering off until they were curled into one another once more, sated and relaxed. After a few minutes of silence, Clint propped himself up onto one elbow, leaning over Peter with a curious look in his eyes.

"What was that thing you did?"

Peter blushed and glanced to the side. "Uh..."

"Oh come on, after all that you're going to turn into a blushing virgin on me? Really?" Clint asked with a scoff.

"I just remembered you liked it last time so I decided I'd give it a try again," Peter said. "Never did it before."

"Okay, that's great, I liked it, now what is _it?"_

"Well, you know how I can crawl on walls and stuff? I did the same thing, engaged the same parts to pull at your skin," Peter said. "You can't see them, and I don't actually like...stick you with anything."

Clint's eyes widened. "That's...really freaking hot."

Peter arched an eyebrow. "You think so?"

"I'm sorry, should I moan louder next time?"

"Does that mean there is going to be a next time?" Peter asked.

"Yeah...yeah of course," Clint said.

Peter leaned up to kiss him once, but kept his hands cupping Clint's jaw when he pulled back. "Clint?"

Clint's heart started at the look in Peter's eyes. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

Words he hadn't heard in a long time. Words that surprisingly he believed. At one point, he was sure he would've blown the man off but after everything they had been through together, the holes they had dug each other out of, he would be crazy to not believe that Peter meant what he said. He would be crazy to think Peter said the words lightly, when every time Peter loved something it got taken away.

"I'm not going anywhere," Clint whispered, rolling on top of him. "I love you too, Peter. And I'm not going anywhere."

Peter let out a small sigh, pressing a kiss to his lips, a bit longer than before. "I believe you."


End file.
